The Story of Us
by MrsRodgers
Summary: Literary snapshots of our favorite couple. Pre- and ongoing-relationship. No break-ups. Both points of view. Scenes inspired by the episodes themselves and those that I would have liked, or would still like to see. No chronology - we will jump around in time. Be warned: there will be Caskett babies in their future!
1. Chapter 1

**What better place to start than at the very beginning? We all knew they were an 'us', it was just a matter of time.**

**Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but I am most certainly claiming ownership of this story.**

* * *

><p><strong>1. Stop and Stare<strong>

She had him the moment he turned round pen in hand; in hindsight it was a very good thing that he was leaning against the bar. His momentary lack of stability could immediately be attributed to alcohol and the seething mass of fan girls. Signing chests could be _exhausting_. Gina was also a factor; dealing with his ex-wife and publisher was enough to sap anyone's energy.

It would take many subsequent months for him to admit it to himself, but the instant he stared in to Beckett's eyes he was lost.

* * *

><p>He really <em>doesn't<em> stand a chance as she struts in to the interrogation room and leans on the table to take his breath away. Did it just get hot in here? She isn't playing fair, isn't there something in the Geneva Convention about doing that? There should be. Flashing eyes and perfect lips; there seriously has to be better uses for those. He could give her a list. Come on Rick get your act together. In his defense there's really no option but to fight back; flirting most definitely can't be against the rules when she's playing dirty.

Things get even better when he realizes why he's here. His fictional crime scenes are not so fictional any more; wait until his poker buddies hear about _this_. She's a tease. If he can't get the photos of the crime scenes legitimately he'll have to employ some diversionary tactics. Begin by turning up at the precinct and inserting yourself neatly in to the investigative team courtesy of your poker buddy; their Captain. So convenient. Follow the lovely detective everywhere, dog her steps, until she is so distracted by how annoying you are that she fails to realize you have an ulterior motive. She'll also be forced to notice your charm of course, there's really no way she could miss that. Make yourself invaluable to the investigation, charm your way in to the team, leave her a signed copy of the latest Derrick Storm as a cover, and walk-don't-run out of the precinct with the crime scene photos you conveniently swiped from her desk when she wasn't looking. _Perfect_. Kissing her cheek as you leave is the perfect finishing touch; she can't follow you out with weak knees.

* * *

><p>The crime scene photos clearly show that the murderer isn't nearly as obsessed with him and his books as the detectives believe; the details are all wrong. Small details about the way the bodies are staged, but they're important and bring him to a surprising conclusion. They have the wrong killer. <em>Outstanding<em>. Imagine how impressed she'll be when he lets her know what he's discovered. Strangely enough she doesn't _look_ pleased when she arrests him, but the thought of her and handcuffs and himself all together in the same room is irresistible; so distracting. He really has to tell her that; immediately. He does at least remember to let her know his safe word, makes sure he gets it out there early before they might need to use it. Best trip to the library _ever_.

* * *

><p>His joy at spending time with the enchanting detective is somewhat tempered by being let out on bail to find his mother and daughter waiting for him. Talking to said detective and her Captain; that can't be all good. What might the two of them have said about him? He really should have prepped them beforehand about what to say about him if they ever met. He doesn't want to go home yet; his work here is not done. In fact a plan is rapidly forming in his head about a way he can ensure he spends countless hours with the enchantress whilst working on a project that will banish his boredom and growing disenchantment with Derrick to the darkest corners of his office. Surely there can be no chance of facing writer's block with Beckett in the room. Of course the bedroom would be better than the office, but they'll need to discuss the arrangements later.<p>

* * *

><p>Having finally helped lead his new favorite detectives to the real murderer, the icing on the cake that is his first real-life case, is that she gets to see him in action. He takes down the murderer right in front of her. How can she fail to be impressed by that? Did she see him? He's not entirely sure that her poking him is enough awe and gratitude for his act of heroism. Okay, so the safety was on Tisdale's gun all the time, but he still took his life in his hands to take him down. He really might have a flare for police work.<p>

There's a soundtrack playing in his head shortly afterwards as he watches her strut away from him, all swaying hips and bouncing hair. On purpose. He sees what she's doing. Yes please. She might have had him on the point of collapse just now from the all-too-brief warmth of her breath in his ear, but he's over that temporary weakness. He's now really desperate for Beckett to give him some idea. That was a promise wasn't it? He has lots of ideas as well Beckett, really good ideas, but there's room for yours as well.

In fact his best idea to date has him leaning alluringly in the doorway to Montgomery's office the next day. He's all perfect hair, intense eyes and friendly welcoming smile. She gets to find out that he's going to be shadowing her for his next book. He's basing his new character on her, no more Derrick. How exciting is that Beckett? All that time we'll be spending together. Time for so many ideas.

She'll come round. This is going to be _fun_.

* * *

><p><strong>So there we have it. Hope you've enjoyed it so far. I'm intending the chapters to be written from both Castle's and Beckett's point of views, whichever seems the most appropriate as I write each chapter.<strong>

**Sally.**

**Twitter: mshistorybrit**


	2. Chapter 2

**I considered this scene for ****_Patience,_**** but it really didn't fit with the tone of that story. So, I thought it might be an amusing snapshot to include in this instead. I realize we've now jumped to Season 7, but this is what was in my head! I hope you enjoy it. Before I forget, I must remember to thank you for the follows, reviews, and favorites for the first chapter. You're all really kind.**

**Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but I 'm claiming ownership of this story.**

* * *

><p><strong>2. Somniloquy<strong>

The thing that most people notice about Richard Castle, writer, is that he very rarely thinks before he speaks. Nervous energy, fear, excitement, they all magnify this disassociation between brain and mouth. This has got him in to some very, shall we say, _awkward _situations over the years; most recently in his work as a civilian consultant with a team of homicide detectives. _Her_ team of homicide detectives.

"Yes, Gina_, it is_ work," has been his sulky mantra over the last several years as he faithfully follows her around this murderous city doing his best to love and protect her whilst at the same time attempting to ignore his ex-wife and publisher. One and the same person actually, if you can believe that. Gina. Get over it, Kate; he's chosen you. Now who's sulking?

Unfortunately for Rick, but now _very_ _fortunately_ for herself, she has discovered that he has even more trouble engaging brain-before-mouth when he's asleep. Really, there's no filter _at all_. They finally got their acts together and progressed from being merely partners, to being lovers and partners, and are currently partners and betrothed-soon-to-be-marrieds. That's probably a phrase she's just invented, but Rick really loves her linguistic skills. The point is that she has been a party to this information for a while now, has even teased him about interrogating him in his sleep before. Many months ago when they were working a case and he happened to let slip (in his sleep of course) a name that most definitely wasn't hers, he chose to believe she was joking about her sleep-interrogation methods. She loves messing with him, he's so easy sometimes. That he still chooses not to believe her is his problem, not hers. This method she's come up with is awesome in its perfection; she gets to snuggle up with him _and _get information as well. Seriously, it's a win-win. _For her_. Even if he doesn't give up any useful information she still gets the 'Rick Patented Snuggle'. Yes, that is a real thing. She doesn't even have to question him usually, he just talks and she just listens and learns. Seriously, it's perfect.

Admittedly the stress of the last few months has almost broken them. His abduction on their wedding day and the evidence uncovered in the weeks afterwards left everybody with so many doubts she wasn't sure they would ever find their way back as a couple. But he's here with her again, although they aren't completely up to full strength with their mind-meld awesomeness yet. They're still being very careful to live around each other without causing upset or distress and it's holding them back. However, she is now very definitely back in his/their bed thank goodness, and in the fortuitous position of getting the chance to snuggle and sleep-interrogate him yet again. Maybe the Universe doesn't hate her as much as she first thought.

To be honest this latest chance for interrogation has come a bit out of left field. There's been nothing from him for weeks about his time away, no nightmares or flashbacks, since he's been back. So, she's somewhat rusty and unprepared to hear him muttering about "the ship" in the middle of the night. It must have been his restless shifting which woke her, his words immediately ensuring her complete alertness. He's talking? Ship?

"Rick," she's careful not to jostle him too much. "What's happening?" She barely breathes the words in to his ear.

He mumbles and pulls her just a little bit closer in to his side. Yes. Here we go.

"He was on the ship as well, it was a battle ship." He goes quiet again, but he's far more restless than before.

Who? That man he went off to meet today while she had to wait in the car? They were both held captive on a ship? That little blue dinghy came from a ship? The Coast Guard told them that wasn't a possibility; she really needs to have another talk with them about their inability to decipher evidence. He's talking again, listen Kate.

"They're getting ready." That doesn't sound good. "Lots of weapons on board." No. This is sounding more and more like they should be calling in the FBI; CIA; Coast Guard; navy; marines; _and_ National Guard. Somebody, anybody. Who's getting ready? And for what? She really needs to wriggle an arm free so she can grab her phone, call Gates. Rick _move._

"Rick, where are they?" Please answer, Rick, please. This is really important. He hasn't spoken about anything that happened to him since he returned, and now he just casually mumbles in to her ear in the middle of the night that they're about to be, what, invaded? Bombed? Come on Rick. Focus.

His face is getting that adorable little frown/pout combination which usually does a really good job of frying her concentration, but not this time. Why didn't he leap back in to the car earlier today and insist she call for help? It sounds like he's got caught up in a major international conspiracy. Maybe it _is_ his father and that's why he wouldn't tell her anything earlier? He was adamant that she should just drive away. Maybe the whole thing is already being handled. But who is the man that wanted to meet him alone? How does he fit in to all of this?

"I'll get the message out through social media, I was on television this morning. I can let people know, lots of people." What? Social media? Not sure that's going to cut it Rick.

"Rick, listen to me _very carefully_. Who has the weapons? _Where are they?_" Please answer Rick, please. Come on, concentrate.

"Dark side of the moon." What? _You have got to be kidding me_. This is about a _space_ ship? He's talking about _aliens_? She was just about to have a national State of Emergency declared and he was talking about aliens all along? _Unbelievable_.

She warned him about this, definitely did _not_ imagine that little talk they had about offering rewards for information and finding yourself buried under a pile of nut jobs. She might have said haystack not pile, but she definitely said nut jobs. That was her exact phrase, he couldn't possibly have missed it. They were both walking and talking at the same time, but that really doesn't class as multi-tasking, and therefore he should have been paying attention.

This little middle-of-the-night sojourn in to fantasy land is a case in point as far as nut jobs are concerned. Aliens; of all the nut jobs she had in mind when she warned him earlier, UFO nut jobs didn't even feature in the Top Ten. She really did _not _see that one coming. Wait, what? Oh. Maybe it's about you, Kate, not him. It's you that's slipping, really losing your touch. _You_ missed alien-guy today, not him. Good job Rick's asleep and can't see you losing your touch right in front of him. Sweet man-child didn't tell you earlier because he didn't want _you_ to be embarrassed that you missed the UFO nut. He had to deal with it for himself, totally unprepared. You still wouldn't have a clue if he didn't talk in his sleep. He really is adorable.

Maybe now would be a good time to let go of this obsession with sleep-interrogation and return to the 'Rick Patented Snuggle'. Give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and wriggle back in there, as tight as you can. Far less chance of embarrassment and confusion all round that way. Far more chance of sleep. Win-win.

_Aliens_.

* * *

><p><strong>I really couldn't resist this one. Next chapter we find ourselves back with Kate again.<strong>

**Sally**

**Twitter: mshistorybrit**


	3. Chapter 3

**My favorite ****_Castle_**** guest star is getting a mention in this snapshot; I always wanted the three of them to meet again on screen. There's still time I suppose, but I don't hold out much hope! I'm thinking this is set ****_very early_**** Season 5.**

**Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but I am claiming ownership of this story.**

* * *

><p><strong>3. Panthera tigris<strong>

She can't help herself. The compulsion to gaze in awe at the vision of beauty, grace and unleashed power relaxing in front of them is too strong a pull to resist. She really is exquisite. It's such a pity Castle is being such a baby about the whole visit. They were invited, it would have been rude to turn the opportunity down, and if they _had_ turned it down Gates would probably have banned Castle from the precinct. Not an option. Besides she's excited to see her again. The day they met was one of the most intense days of her life, and Castle's as well if his reactions were to be believed. He hasn't spoken about it since, but surely he wasn't that disturbed at the time, was he?

Time to needle a response out of him, a chance for a little gentle teasing. "Don't be such a sulky baby, Castle." Really, so much sulking. So she didn't tell him where they were going, big deal; it's not like he hasn't been to the zoo before. She wanted it to be a surprise. He's going to embarrass her in front of everybody if he doesn't snap out of this sulk soon. What exactly does he think is going to happen here today?

Finally he speaks. "Baby? She's terrifying, my unease is entirely justified." At least he had to stop pouting to answer her; except now he has a wild-eyed look of panic on his face. "And you really think _you're_ so mature, calling me names?" He turns to look at her.

Mature compared to you, no competition. "Why are you looking so scared? What exactly do you think they invited us here for today, Castle? You think they're going to let her _eat_ you?" Really, the man's a fool sometimes. An endearing fool, but don't tell anyone that. It's not like they're going to let them get close; there's a substantial glass wall between them and her.

"Yes, that's exactly what she's going to do. She's a _tiger_. Look what happened the last time we were all together in an enclosed space." He visibly shudders. "She tried her very best to _eat_ us."

"Oh please, Castle. Special circumstances, and that was partly your own fault because you seemed determined to serve us up as an entree before Ryan and Esposito rescued us. I'm sure I remember you tempting her with beef jerky as an appetizer. You can't blame her for wanting to eat that, or us, she was starving and you lured her in to the room." Okay, she may have helped him kick the hole in the wall, but that fact's not relevant to this argument. "Actually, they hadn't been feeding her enough; she was malnourished when she was rescued." To her critical eye it still looks as though the animal could do to gain a few pounds, but as she isn't a tiger expert she can't be sure. "Anyway, we aren't even going to be in the same room with her; she's staying behind that glass wall."

"Beckett, you still haven't told me what's going on. Did I mention I never wanted to see this tiger again? Look, she's glaring at me _right now, _I think the dislike is mutual. What are we doing here?" The pout is back.

Looks like it's time to fess up then. She's quite proud of what she's done here. "Okay, since you seem determined to rush us out of here as soon as possible, we're actually here for her naming ceremony. I had the honor of naming our tiger; they asked me and I said yes. Zoo management thought it would be a good idea to do a mini press conference. Seems like the publicity should bring a welcome increase in visitor attendance numbers. Good publicity for the NYPD as well, apparently." According to Gates, who had briskly told her the only option she had was to attend. She's not entirely convinced about the benefit to the NYPD, but she's happy to be here at least, unlike her sulky partner. "You might want to lose the pout before the photographers get here, Mr. Page Six."

At the mention of the press he at least seems to be adopting his public persona; he loses the pout and starts practicing his smile. Maybe this can turn out to be a success after all. She might also be encouraged to make good on her previous promise to him if he behaves himself. Probably better to keep that idea to herself until later, a reward for good behavior.

"Come on, Castle. All we have to do is stand there and pose for some pictures while the zoo director gives a speech about how we rescued her from the tiger traffickers, and then I think there's some other spiel about the importance of zoos in the preservation of endangered species. After that they release her in to the public part of the enclosure so everyone can see and photograph her and then they announce her name. It will take half an hour, tops." It's really not the most difficult of tasks, he's more than used to posing for photographers. He's also going to love the name she's chosen, it's perfect.

He straightens his jacket and brushes some lint off his sleeve. "Okay. So what name did you choose?" Finally, some interest.

She's so eager to tell him, practically vibrating with excitement. "Calliope." She waits with bated breath for his reaction. Nothing yet. "Her keepers have been calling her Calli for short." Surely he's going to love it; the name is a perfect fit, symbolic of their relationship.

His reaction isn't what she was expecting. "Calliope? What sort of a name is that?" No; his scorn is obvious. Did she get it wrong? The zoo approved it, so _they_ must like it. Right? She thought he would like it too.

"It's a tiger name."

"No it's not. It's a muse's name. Is it too late to change it?" He's got to be kidding, right? Surely he gets it.

"Of course it's too late to change it. They're just about to announce it. Why would they even _want_ to? It's perfect. Calliope was the Greek muse of epic poetry. You're a writer and I'm your muse. The tiger and I are both extraordinary, and I named the tiger. Therefore, the name is perfect." Come on Castle, follow the logic and think it through. It really is the perfect name for the perfect creature.

He gives her that adorable lopsided smile, looks around to see if they're being watched, and then pulls her in for a gentle kiss. "You did this for us? I think I may be revising my opinion of the name, then. Not the tiger though, I'm definitely not revising my opinion of her. She's still terrifying, not extraordinary. That term is reserved for you alone." There's another drugging kiss before the sound of footsteps drawing near forces them to part.

Okay, time to reward him for finally seeing things her way. She speaks in that quiet, sultry tone that rapidly turns him to mush. "Hey, Castle. You remember that day we met Calli?" As he watches her she bites her lip and dangles her handcuffs from one finger, right in front of his face. Is he starting to drool? Perfect. Time to move in for the kill.

"You want to do it without the tiger, later?" She laughs, turns and leaves him standing there.

* * *

><p><strong>I really loved that tiger! Next chapter is going to be a little intense; Rick, in the twilight zone between seasons 3 and 4.<strong>

**Sally**


	4. Chapter 4

**There is no humor in this snapshot (sorry!). We all know that the path to Caskett is paved with drama, angst ****_and_**** humor.**

**To Maria (Guest): I'm glad I made your day with the last chapter. I absolutely will be writing the story of 'the promise' at a later date! I hope I can continue to make your day with the intervening chapters as well.**

**Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but I am claiming ownership of this story.**

* * *

><p><strong>4. All I Need<strong>

Sensory overload. All was calm and now all is chaos. The noise is deafening and he can't think, can't focus. The resounding noise of the gun shot has been replaced with hysterical screaming, shouting coming from every direction. So many police and nobody to take charge; shouts to call for backup, medical help. People shouting out for friends, family, unable to immediately locate them in the melee. Was anybody else he loves gunned down, targeted by the sniper? He can see Lanie diving for Kate and Esposito trying to hold her back whilst shouting on the phone. Ryan is protecting Montgomery's family; what hell must they be going through now? Alexis is safe, being held back by his mother, pushed down low amongst the chairs that are now upturned and littering the ground. They're both shouting at him, crying, asking him to go to them. But he can't, he can't force himself to move, not away from Kate. He needs to be here, right next to her, and really all he needs to…

Movement, there seems to be perpetual motion, people scattering in all directions; are they looking for the sniper yet? Somebody needs to be searching, he has to tell them what he saw. His eyes are stinging, hurting from the flashes of color, the prismatic effect of tears. He's crying. And the blood; his hands are warm and sticky with her blood, both literally and metaphorically. They're shaking uncontrollably; he brought this on her by opening her mother's case; she told him to leave it alone, and now she's lifeless on the ground, taken down by a sniper. He might just as well have painted a target on her chest; he led them here and didn't get to her in time. But not lifeless, please don't be lifeless, Kate. He won't be able to live with himself if she doesn't make it. He really needs…

Lanie is pushing him out of the way and yet clinging to him at the same time. The paramedics need to get to Beckett, they have to save her, no time to waste; he vaguely remembers hearing the sirens in the distance but doesn't remember them arriving. Now there's even more shouting, pushing, and questions being fired in his general direction as they work on Kate; is he hurt? Is that what they're asking him? It doesn't matter, save Kate. He loves her, _save her_. Are they making sure they can stem the bleeding enough to keep her alive? Please keep her alive. He can't comprehend what's being said, are they even speaking English? But Lanie is pulling him, tugging his sleeve as she tows him behind the paramedics keeping Kate alive, a melancholy little procession that rapidly makes its way to the waiting ambulance. Lanie is crying, muttering to "Beckett, hang on. Don't you _dare_ die on me, on us; _not now_." And he finds himself praying that she's listening to Lanie, can hear her words to hang on. Will she hear her over all the noise? Why is it so loud? She can't die, not now. Really all he needs…

He dived to stop the bullet hitting her in the split second that he realized what was about to happen. The glint of light at the side of a distant grave stone; if only he'd realized the significance quicker, might he have got to her in time? He _wasn't_ quick enough and then all he'd been able to do was gently cradle her on the ground as the blood seeped through her dress uniform and coated his hands. _I love you_. Does she remember him telling her? If only he hadn't waited so long to let her know. Did she hear him? Her eyes were open but they weren't focused on him, she was looking at him but not seeing him, staring up at the sky in shock and pain. She must have realized what had happened, must be scared. Did his words manage to pierce through the shock? She needs to not be in any pain, pain will make her scared and he doesn't want that for her. Everything was so chaotic after it happened and he couldn't hear her, could she hear him? The day was already bad enough, having to bury Roy Montgomery and bearing the knowledge of what he'd done, been a part of. She was supposed to be safe, Roy was making his stand so that she would be safe; he was a sacrifice _for her_. His family are without him now because he sacrificed himself for Kate. None of this is making any sense. Why did they shoot her when Roy had chosen to finish it for her? His thoughts are going round in circles, the pressure building in his head. Roy was his friend and now he's dead. He's running to keep up with Lanie. Kate. He really needs to…

* * *

><p>The cacophony of sounds in the ambulance is making it all so much worse. The siren is deafening and he just wants to cover his ears like Alexis used to do as a young child when she got startled by something loud. Alexis. She must be terrified as well, he was standing so close to Kate. Where is she now? He should have gone to her and his mother, but they must know he couldn't leave Kate, not now. Will she be able to get to the hospital? Esposito and Ryan, they'll look out for her, get her there. Now he just needs…<p>

Lanie is talking to him, grabbing his hand to get his attention. Why can't that siren just go away? It's so deafeningly loud. His head is aching so much. Lanie's crying, tears running down her face and dripping on to his hand. They splatter through the blood that covers it, making an abstract pattern in the redness. It's all so surreal. This is Kate's blood, he's covered in it. Kate's blood and Lanie's tears. He needs to concentrate on what Lanie's saying. Please be alive, Kate. Don't let Lanie be telling him she's dead. The monitors lose the reassuring beep that they've been making, and instead sound the ominous continuous tone that heralds the cessation of a heartbeat. He can't hear that. Not now, not ever. Don't die, Kate. Please. This can't be happening. The paramedics are calling to each other, radios are crackling, and Lanie just looks at him, his horror mirrored in her eyes. She died. Kate died. All he _really_ needed was…

He seems to be the only one that's frozen when Kate's heart stops. The paramedic and Lanie are frenziedly working together as he sits there paralyzed, his only physical connection to Kate is his hand resting lightly on her ankle. She died. He stops breathing then because the pain is too much. His hands are covering his ears, his head is bowed, but then he hears the faint beep as the monitor detects the faltering beat of her heart; she's still alive. The release of his breath from relief makes him light-headed, but there's no time to celebrate, even briefly. The ambulance doors fly open behind him, the sudden rush of air a shock to his system. Please, he just needs to…

The siren has stopped, but now there's more shouting as they rush to move Kate. Lanie is telling him to move. He needs to move, but he can't get his legs to cooperate, he's paralyzed with fear and doubt. His arm is grabbed from behind, a doctor helping him out of the ambulance, asking him if he's hurt. He shakes his head, incapable of speech. Lanie follows Kate out of the ambulance and leaps on top of her to keep her alive; she's unable to let her go either. She turns to look at him as they rush towards the hospital doors.

She's talking to him. "Castle. What do you need? You keep muttering, saying that 'you need.' What do you need?" She's getting further away from him as they rush Kate in to the building. He runs along behind them, not letting her out of his sight. Unwilling for this to be his last glimpse of her, Lanie with her hands on her chest to keep her alive as she's towed along the corridor.

"All I need is to hear her breathe."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm taking part in NaNoWriMo, so this will probably be the last update for a couple of weeks at least. <strong>

**Sally**


End file.
